


Monopōlion

by theparadoxic



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Corporate Espionage, Crimes & Criminals, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-01-27 00:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21382744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theparadoxic/pseuds/theparadoxic
Summary: Trust is feeble when it comes to money and power.The Hresvelgs are disrupting their age old business and Dimitri’s about to lose his mind. Claude takes this chance to win the Blaiddyd’s approval the best way he knows how — by calling a certain Gautier to do the dirty work for him.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

“You don’t have to be Mr. Goody Two Shoes all the time,” Claude was fiddling with his tie as he spoke, too distracted by the nicotine clouds between him and Dimitri. He tugged it out a bit more until the second button of his polo shirt was free to loosen up. “I’m just saying, if you’re so hung up on the numbers then you need to do something else. And you know I’m always happy to help.”

“I just cannot bring myself to comprehend how the Hresvelgs are carrying this out. It is far too much for me to even wrap my head around how such progress is possible in a year’s period,” he rubbed his forehead with calloused fingertips. His leather gloves were far discarded, a lit cigarette instead occupying his other hand. Dimitri rarely smoked but the Hresvelgs beating the Blaiddyd’s revenue for the past year was one of those occasions he could not afford _ not _ smoking. “It’s just impossible, no matter how hard we’ve tried to compute.”

“You know that saying? When in Rome, do what the Romans do?” Claude joined him by lighting up his second stick that night. He picked up his glass of malt whisky, half-empty but still ice cold, and took a sip before continuing, “You’re beating yourself up over a contest you’re _ vaguely _ aware isn’t fair yet you choose to do nothing about it, so of course you’re gonna sulk your ass off like this.”

Dimitri slumped in his chair, woes further coming out in unsteady breaths. Claude was right, despite him not wanting to admit out loud. There was something fishy about Edelgard’s family’s dealings recently but he nor anyone in his family could not seem to figure out what it was.

The past financial year hasn’t been that great at all for the Blaiddyds. In the past 50 years in the business, it’s the first time that they’ve started plummeting in terms of profit, and not in any way it could be considered normal economic fluctuations. Rather, the loss has been so devastating that they’ve had to retrench a majority of their regular employees: Losing architects and engineers, even manufacturers, warehouses, down to drivers and interns. It’s been hurting them so badly that they’ve been on the front page of the business headlines four months in a row and all for the bad reasons. Dimitri was pretty sure he’s about to go batshit insane if he can’t find a solution to this problem. ASAP.

As if reading his mind without a word even being spoken, Claude sighed, crossed his legs as he watched his friend slowly but surely sink into despair. “Dima, look,” he slowed as he spoke, watching Dimitri with intent and the way his pale hands stuck to his forehead like glue. “If it really means that much to you, I can help—”

“Claude,” it was a firm tone with rejection implied. He looked up at him as he put his light out on the glass surface of the ashtray. Dimitri has known Claude for ages now, with their families acquainted since they can remember. Purely for business purposes at first, but the more they got to see each other in social functions and important meetings, the more Dimitri has known that his friend had an uncanny tendency to be stealthy in his movements — nothing illegal of the sort but nevertheless a fact that Dimitri has always felt 50/50 about. “You need not involve yourself in my family’s problems. Just having you listen is more than enough help.”

“Yeah, and I’m always happy to hear you out, but if I’m being honest? I really hate seeing that helpless look on your face.” He chuckled a bit after noticing Dimitri flinch at his words. “You’re too nice for your own good, and I can’t stand you getting one-upped like this.”

Dimitri knew he was right. Claude has always been consistent in both praising and discouraging his straight edge attitude. He looked away, lacking any response, purely because he’s unsure of what to say in return.

“Dima,” Claude hunched forward but kept his voice as light as he could, “I won’t do anything you don’t like. You know that. But this has been going on for a year and nothing that your family nor their corporate connections alike have worked in your favour, so why don’t you just give me a chance to have a crack at it? Then you can call the shots from there.”

This time, Dimitri turned to look at him. There was a dark and ominous look in his eyes as he did, albeit very subtly. Claude noticed but didn’t speak of it. He also tried his best to hide the fact that it made him flinch.

There was a very heavy sigh before Dimitri pursed his lips and took a sip of his own liquor. Scotch. He liked things with a more classic flair.

Claude didn’t need to hear it, but he knew exactly what Dimitri’s answer was.

* * *

“Are you really still going after that guy?” Incredulous, Sylvain thought. He stood from where he was, leaving the two ladies on the bed as he did. The phone between his ear and his shoulder was starting to slip off because of the sweat but he managed long enough until he was in the bathroom.

It was pretty late. And it was darn cold outside. So when the Royce pulled up, Claude hurried to get in, with a pink-haired lady cheerfully acknowledging his presence despite him being glued to the call. “Still, yes. Do I hear that same old strewn of judgment in your tone, Sylvain?”

“You know there’s a Molinaro dude ready to beat you up anytime, right? That guy’s like a brick wall next to Dimitri. You can’t even breathe anywhere near a Blaiddyd with him around.”

A chuckle from Claude, disbelief in his tone as he answered, “Sylvain, have you ever taken me as someone who stands losing?”

“You’re right,” Sylvain has finished tying his bathrobe by then, ignoring the calls of the girls from the other room. He sat comfortably on the sectional of the big bathroom, feet high up with one hand behind his head. “I’ve seen how you were since we were in university when it comes to being outsmarted. You’re just a lot more stubborn now because of Dimitri. Dare I even say unbearable.”

“See, this is why we’re still friends. I’m just waiting for the day you’ll put those brains to real good use and run an actual business.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Claude. I _ am _ running a business—”

“A brothel. Or chains of it, sorry, I know how offended you get when your franchise isn’t being recognised the way it deserves.”

Sylvain rolled his eyes so hard, he swore he was so close to a convulsion, “Do you really want my help or not?”

Claude heartily laughed the first time that night. He looked outside, the city lights seemingly brighter than usual. His eyes were starting to hurt. “Sorry, yeah, I do. I just need you to find some dirt on the rival family. Easy enough, yeah?”

“Wait. I’ve already done this heaps of times on the Hresvelgs. What else can you possibly ask for that I haven’t gotten out yet?”

“They started transitioning to a new field. Game’s beginning to take a 180 and we kinda need a fresh start here. Whatever you have filed in your drawers years ago _ might _ still be useful, but honestly, this needs a new stack. We’re dealing with some new technology now.”

“Technology?” Sylvain sat up, intrigued but also intimidated. “I feel old just by you mentioning that and I’m only 27. Not quite sure I’m the right person for this. I like my side hobby the old fashioned way, you know.”

“The great Sylvain ‘only-does-jobs-that-make-my-family-angry’ Gautier is backing away from the 21st century? Charming,” he allowed himself to laugh again before getting down to it. They were close to Reigan property and he absolutely did not like discussing these things within the family’s earshot. Corporate magnates can be quite the scrutinising bunch. “I’m willing to pay more than usual here. Not that you even need the money, Trust Fund Baby.”

Sylvain laughed this time, standing on his feet and now opting for a shower. The girls on the bed seemed to be busy on their own by then. Not that Sylvain really cared about them. “You and me both. Look at you so lovestruck, willing to dip your hands and feet into new territory, all for Dimitri.”

“Ahh, almost true. Don’t involve my hands in this. You’re that body part in this job. Always ready to do the dirty work for me, right?”

The first time Sylvain offered to do something questionable for him, Claude wondered with both great interest and caution. He’s always been the cheerful and congenial guy in front of everyone, but everything sort of changed when one fateful day he found Sylvain being chased by authorities during their senior year. He later found out that the man had a thing for getting in trouble purely for the sake of fun and nothing else (a bit psychotic if Claude was being honest but that was a whole ‘nother ball game to touch), and well, if he was willing to get in trouble to get his mind off his family, who was Claude to say ‘no’? If anything, they were both benefiting from such arrangements anyway.

“More money for me’s always good. Makes the family stop questioning where I’m spending _ their _ money. But you gotta throw in a date with that brunette you had in one of those recent yacht parties you hosted.”

It wasn’t unusual for Sylvain to ask for dates. And Claude had the expansive network to make it happen anytime it worked in his favour. This one not being an exception. “Of course. Which one are we talking about here, the singer?”

“Yeah? She’s a singer, too? I gotta hear that voice be put into other uses then.”

The Royce has long stopped in front of their mansion’s doors. Claude was enjoying the small talk, however. His driver was used to it and didn’t question him staying inside the parked car. “She’s a tough one, I don’t think you can take her. But I’ll see what I can do.”

“Nobody’s too tough for me to woo, you know how it is.”

“I really don’t,” Claude playfully retorted. Dimitri’s been the only one occupying his mind for a while now, so either way he wasn't kidding when he said it. “Unlike you, some of us actually have to sit on a desk for hours on end. Worse, be stuck in dumbass meetings.”

“Sucks for you. See, if you ran a successful franchise like myself, you wouldn’t have to be chained to your office all day.”

He only laughed at that. Another hearty one. Sylvain never failed to make him laugh. He could banter with his friend all night but the security team in their garden was beginning to patch through their earpieces, and Claude didn’t really have the energy to explain to his parents why he took so long to get inside the house, “I digress, Sylvain. Does this mean you’re taking the job?”

Sylvain’s thoughts backpedaled a bit on the technology part again. It didn’t sit very well with him but at the same time, he wasn’t really the type to back away from an interesting challenge. It meant he’d have a bigger distraction away from his family, after all. He sighed and smiled before finally answering, “Yeah, why not? It’s not like I have anything better to do anyway.” Claude chuckled before ending their call. He himself smiled in amusement before he finally stepped in the shower, but not before typing up a message on his phone and looking for a particular person under ‘B’ in his contact list.

* * *

The first thing he noticed upon seeing her was the band around her ring finger. He grimaced, a tad annoyed at the fact that it would be harder to try and get with her now. (That’s one name permanently crossed out of his roster.) Sylvain pretended to not notice as she led him across the vast hallway of his alma mater.

“We don’t normally do favours for alumni like this, Sylvain,” Byleth began, not looking back at him as they continued to trot down the halls. The university was as luxurious as Sylvain last remembered. Which other school can even afford marble for their corridors? “But you’re an exception, considering the donations the Gautiers have been providing the institution for many years now.”

Sylvain wasn’t happy at the mention of his family. But he was willing to endure it this one time. He mustered his fake cheerful tone as he replied, “Of course! Our family’s always willing to help out however we can. This university’s where we all graduated from, after all.”

Byleth has known Sylvain long enough to notice when his insincerity was at high gear. She chose not to comment on it, however. “We’re near my husband’s office, I’m sure he can refer an outstanding student to this job opening you have.”

The mention of her husband made Sylvain flinch a little bit. He tried to sleep with his professor back when he was still a student, and sure, that was years ago, but if he were honest Sylvain was afraid her husband might beat him up upon seeing him. But of course, that was another one of the many things he will never admit out loud, an addition to the very long list of insecurities he’s chosen to keep to himself. “Yeah, thanks so much for doing this again, Byleth. My mom’s just about to launch a new product in her telco business and needs a tech master who’s better than most people we know.”

“That sounds exciting,” Byleth commented flatly. “I’m sure Seteth has a name or two that will be most useful for your mother’s new endeavour.” They reached the said man’s office and she knocked twice before going straight inside.

“Ah, Byleth,” the man with green hair commented. An unusual colour for Sylvain, but all the same made more sense for Byleth to be attracted to. Birds of the same feather. He stood to offer Sylvain a handshake, which the younger took firmly, “You must be Sylvain Jose Gautier. I have heard a lot about you and your family’s generosity for this university. I’m sure you are always reminded of it but I shall tell you all the same — we’re nothing short of grateful for your contributions to the institution.”

Sylvain brought up the fake smile from earlier, “Our pleasure. If there’s anything else we can do for you guys don’t even think twice and just let me know. We’re always willing to sort something out for the ol’ alma mater.”

“Of course,” Seteth withdrew his hand and walked around his desk, landing a hand on the small of Byleth’s back like a bee drawn to honey. “Now, you were looking for a talented computer scientist for your family’s new venture, is that correct?”

“That’s right. Byleth here told me you supervise some of the scholars in this school, so I thought it would be great if you can introduce me to some people we can interview.”

“Most definitely. I have just the right candidate for you. Follow me.”

They went outside his office, walking along the marble hallways once more before stopping by a room on the next floor. Seteth knocked lightly on the door, thoughtfully twisting the knob as he offered Byleth and Sylvain to first enter before himself.

There was one student sitting in the middle of the room, occupied by his thoughts and glued to his laptop.

“Sylvain, this is Felix Hugo Fraldarius,” Seteth introduced, his deep voice echoing around the quiet room. “He’s one of our most decorated post-graduate students in the programme, and I believe he’ll be able to help you with whatever job it is you’re looking to accomplish.”

Said Felix had headphones on that he didn’t even bother removing, just faintly looking above his screen to acknowledge their presence. He had dark blue hair, thin lips pursed in a straight line, and a deathly glare that could probably kill dozens of people at once.

And Sylvain thought he was the most beautiful person he’s laid eyes on in a very, very long time. Brunette singer and everyone else be damned.

If initially he had worries about whether or not Claude’s request was for him to do, all of that’s out the window by now. He was, no doubt, looking forward to get this job done. And, if he’s lucky, maybe even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I post FE3H memes and talk about my stories on Twitter: @theparadoxic


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubs palms together* The cast begins to expand!

“You don’t understand, Claude,” Sylvain, for the first time in his life, sounded so out of it. “He’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“Mm, right.” Claude could clearly hear the hysterics on the other line. Apparently, Sylvain was introduced to someone who can help him with his task, and he opted for ‘Pretty Boy’ as a working alias. How predictable. Claude chose to ignore the plead for some sort of reaction though. It was always more fun to play coy and provoke Sylvain in such situations. “I recall you talking about Hilda the same way when you first met her.”

Genuinely surprised, he flinched, almost losing the phone nestled between his ear and shoulder, “What? I don’t remember saying that about Hilda!”

“And about Dorothea too, isn’t that right?” Claude ignored him, “I quote: ‘I gotta hear that voice be put into other uses then’.” The taunt, which was responded with a grunt from Sylvain, ended in a very happy laughter from Claude.

Claude couldn’t see it but Sylvain shook his head in defeat anyway, “Ugh, whatever.” He sighed before letting go of his console’s controller — long gone from the game he was trying to play — before properly holding his phone. “Are you entertained, Claude? I suppose we can get into business now after your little fun?”

“Hey, you’re the one who started it.”

“Yeah, right. I’m the one who started this call with a little comment about how Dimitri’s pants made him look like a ‘whole snack’ today. Totally me who started it, Claude.”

“What can I say? I need to express utmost appreciation every time I see fine art.”

“You need to get laid, that’s what you need. Shamelessly thirsting over Dimitri, of the countless options at your disposal! Isn’t that Gloucester boy trying to climb up your company for the sole reason of creating excuses to interact with you or some shit? Why not him?”

It was Claude’s turn to roll his eyes. He did like Lorenz, and at times he could consider actually leaving their platonic playing field when it really came to it, but Dimitri was not someone Claude was ready to give up just yet. “Can we just take a few steps back and actually get on with the reason you called me, Sylvain?”

“Yeah, okay, just stop bringing Dimitri up and I’ll stick to business,” Sylvain knew Claude had a witty retort up his sleeve so he immediately cut him off before it could even be said, “I’ve already sent Pretty Boy to get the dirt you’re craving. Lucky for you he’s well-versed with new technology, so I don’t think we’ll have too much trouble.”

Claude smirked. He took a stick of cigarette and let it rest between his lips. “Good. Didn’t expect any less from you.” Standing up, he walked out of his room and made his way to the balcony. Fodlan’s mornings were pretty decent during the time of the year. Claude really loved the spring-summer cusp too because it reminded him of Almyra: Not too cold anymore and with just the right amount of sunlight. “You think this will take a while to do?”

“Antsy?” It was Sylvain’s turn to taunt him. Both feet raised and rested on his coffee table, he put Claude on speaker and started scrolling through his Instagram feed. “Digging through dirt like this requires a bit more time than usual. I already told you I’ve squeezed the Hresvelgs' info bank dry these past few years. Anything new you’d like to come forth would need some extra steps to do. Give me a couple of days then I’ll let you know if it’s gonna cost you a bit extra or not. Though if it’s anything like the past ones we’ve done, I don’t think you’ll need to break the bank here.”

Taking the still unlit cigarette between his fingers, he scratched his forehead lightly before replying, “You seem to be taking this seriously. Brothel franchise not doing well lately?” Claude chuckled before finally taking out a lighter and lighting his stick. “Or is there anything in particular you find very interesting in this new job?”

Sylvain’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing it. He accidentally liked a photo on his feed that he didn’t even see because of Claude’s comment. The man knew him too well; he wasn’t the type to put in too much effort on anything, whether it be fun or work. He’s been that way since they were in school. Still, he thought he was subtle with the dealings thus far, Pretty Boy alias aside.

“Sylvain?” Claude started again when he heard no reply. Bingo: A confirmation of his gut feeling. He easily read exactly what Sylvain was trying to get his hands on with this little side job, but there must be something serious about it this time because there was no flaunting involved. Sylvain was never afraid to flaunt his escapades to him, after all. So, Claude chose not to acknowledge the silence. It didn’t seem like the right time to do so. “Take the time you need to do the job well, but don’t take too long. The Blaiddyds are losing more money than they’re earning it, and some of the Riegan economists estimate they have about half a year to make a comeback. Otherwise, they’re toast. That’s the end for them.”

Quietly, Sylvain regained the confidence that previously escaped him. He cleared his throat as quietly as possible, “It won’t take that long, don’t worry. Don’t you trust me, Claude?” The question, albeit spoken lightly, was a loaded one.

And Claude perfectly understood it on the other line, “I trust you, Sylvain. You don’t even have to ask.”

Sylvain was about to reply when a notification banner popped out of nowhere on his phone. An unknown number with a preview message that made his heart skip another beat. This time for a different reason. He straightened in his seat and talked again, “Yeah, hey, Claude? I need to go. I’ll message you if anything else comes up.” He didn’t wait for the other to say anything — didn’t have to — before opening the message that read:

** _“I start in a few hours. 35th floor IT Dept. Hresvelg Ent. office 2 blocks from uni.”_ **

It was Pretty Boy. Sylvain didn’t even need a proper signoff. He just knew. For some reason (maybe anxiety about the project, maybe just the fact that he’s actually communicating with Felix, or maybe both) his fingers couldn’t stop shaking as he typed out a reply: “Great! Thanks for the update. You ready? All docs set on your end?”

_ **“Yes.”** _

Sylvain was about to reply when another message quickly interrupted his train of thought.

** _“And don’t pretend you care. I’m just here to get paid, nothing more. I can do my job.”_ **

He laughed. Loudly. Sylvain was very much aware that he should have felt even the tiniest bit offended by that, but there was something charming about it. Or maybe that was just Sylvain’s masochistic side popping its head out of the dark crevices of his subconscious. A light tug at the corners of his lips and he let out a heavy sigh that echoed throughout his empty, 150 sqm. bachelor’s pad. He replied one last time, determined to keep the conversation going regardless of direction: “I’m sure you can, pretty boy. If you ever get into any trouble tho, give me a call?”

Felix looked at the reply, disgusted, before huffing out a breath and locking his phone. If it weren’t for the money offered, he would never have taken the job. He’s only met Sylvain once but he’s already annoyed by everything that the man’s saying and now, texting. He could easily tell that this ‘boss’ of his is the type to not take shit seriously and just plays around with his rich parents’ money. Felix hated those scumbags the most.

As he entered the Hresvelg’s building, he took out some of the papers he needed to officially clear of the role. The receptionist made him sign something on a tablet before sending him to the 35th floor.

“Hi there, good morning!” A cheery smile greeted him as he got in the lift. The woman, a bit taller than him, had a beautiful face. She was also dressed like she worked in the marketing department, formal enough for a huge corporation but with slight hints of colour and creativity.

“Hi,” Felix only managed to reply as he quietly stood beside her. He was about to press ‘35’ on the lift’s options when he saw that she already did. Curious, he looked at her again, only to realise that she was also looking back. For the lack of anything to say, Felix opted to look ahead.

Before the doors closed however, someone else onboarded.

Once again, she greeted first, “Oh. Good morning, Sir Aegir! Had a good breakfast?”

“Good morning, Dorothea. Yes, the tea I had this morning was pristine. Thank you for asking.” He turned to look at the woman named Dorothea, and Felix caught a good look of his face. Pointed chin, hazel eyes, spotless skin, and orange hair. It was long and wavy, and very blindingly orange. Every strand was neatly tied back in a ponytail, falling against his perfectly pressed burgundy suit. Felix could tell this man was rich. Probably important too, if the way Dorothea called him ‘sir’ was any indication. He took mental notes.

“Oh,” the man said upon spotting Felix in the corner, “I apologise for being rude. I am Ferdinand von Aegir,” an offer of a gloved hand, “and you are?”

“Hi,” Felix replied and took the hand, shaking it curtly. He was about to introduce himself when he remembered what he was doing. The gears in his head easily shifted as he let out a lie he began memorising nights ago, “My name's Glenn. Glenn Essar.”

Finally, the lift began ascending. Apart from their floor, the number ‘40’ was pressed. The highest of all floors, Felix noted.

At around floor 10, Ferdinand spoke again, still with a polite smile on his face, “It’s very nice to meet you. How is your stay in the company thus far? We make it a point to ensure everybody feels included and relevant, despite the business having thousands of employees at this point.” It was a direct implication of his position of power, even without the specific mention of his role. Ferdinand’s tone was upbeat, well-mannered; it sounded like proper etiquette and an international school system, and as if he was making sure his audience of two was hearing all of it. He was removing his gloves while waiting for Felix to respond, keeping eye contact with a smile plastered on his face.

Floor 25. Felix noticed the scrutiny. But it was going to take more than a stare to make him flinch if he were honest, “It’s actually my first day today. I’m an intern for the IT Department.”

Floor 30. Dorothea turned to her, eyes wide for a split second before smiling fondly towards his direction. She looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t want to interrupt.

Ferdinand, who was equally as enthused as her, had his mouth open in pleasant surprise. “How wonderful!”

Floor 35.

The lift opened, cutting Ferdinand’s well wishes short. He noticed and smiled at both of them before they started stepping out, “Have a great day, both of you.”

The last thing Felix caught a glimpse of before turning to the cubicles was a wave from Ferdinand. He bowed his head very slightly, feigning respect, right as Ferdinand disappeared completely beneath the metal doors.

Turning to the office, the floor was as corporate as he was told. Cubicles everywhere, computers, monitors, the busy clacking of keyboards, and a few chatters here and there — notably on the right side of the room, where Dorothea settled.

Trying to garner as little attention as possible, he walked over to the left side of the room. It was significantly more muted on that side, thank heavens, and it reeked of coffee from one cubicle to the next, and to the next. It was a lot more familiar to him compared to where Dorothea was. (A consolation for a job he was still unsure of the duration; though he'd prefer to finish it as quickly as possible and just get the money.)

There were names on the partitions, indicating the names of people supposedly assigned there. He looked around slowly, noticing the floor-to-ceiling windows from one end of the floorspace to the other. On the ceiling, he noticed that closed-circuit security cameras were abound, installed at approximately every three square meters, beginning from the left hand corner of where he stood and not missing a beat of space. Some of the computers were left unlocked while the corresponding seats were vacant — a vulnerable point for security that he could abuse later — and almost instantly he could identify the common hardware, operating system, and programs that the company's using. The faster he could familiarise himself with what he’s dealing with, the faster he can get over with the ‘internship’ and move on.

Realising he might have been standing too long with a blank face, he began to walk a bit more across the cubicles. It was only after a couple more name tags until he saw his fake name become more visible. ‘Glenn Essar’ was placed between an ‘Ashe Ubert’ and ‘Caspar von Bergliez’, both of whom seemed to be engaged in lively chatter as he approached.

When Felix took his seat, both Ashe and Caspar took note. Caspar was the first one to speak up, “Hey! You must be the new guy. I’m Caspar, nice to meet you.”

Another hand to be shaken. Felix was growing tired of having to go through the formalities. He just wanted to go straight to work. But he was briefed properly by Sylvain and he wasn’t stupid either. He knew that if he failed to blend in, he’ll ultimately fail his mission. It was troublesome but indispensable. So he took Caspar’s hand, grudgingly, and introduced himself to both him and Ashe.

Ashe, who was a lot more calmed in manner, didn’t bother offering a hand. Instead, he smiled at him shyly and offered to walk him to the coffee machine at the back. Finally, someone worth pretending to be nice to, Felix thought.

“Wait for me!” Caspar followed suit, loud and clear, and very much drawing attention from their workmates — a point that Felix definitely did not need on his first day. Caspar did not seem to notice nor mind the attention however, “I make great espresso, Glenn. Let me make you some for your first day!”

“Okay, fine,” was the only response Felix gave. As he followed them both, he once again took note of the office, mentally taking notes he could send Sylvain, before staring straight at the camera installed right across his cubicle.

Hazel eyes bore through the lens as Ferdinand looked back at Felix on his screen. His sunny smile from the lift ride long gone, he started typing a message intended for the first person in his contact list: **_“Vestra, it seems that an interesting character has entered the fray.”_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never thought I'd enjoy writing Sylvain and Claude interacting, so what was supposed to be a rather brief opening for this chapter turned into a full-blown conversation between them. No regrets though. It was fun for me to write; hopefully it was fun for you as a reader, too.
> 
> Feedback and predictions for the next chapter/s always welcome!


End file.
